


Deconstruction

by Cryophase



Category: Half-Life, Portal (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryophase/pseuds/Cryophase
Summary: A team of Combine soldiers find themselves in Aperture Labs
Comments: 13
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

Nobody was particularly thrilled to learn they were being transported into the heart of North America. The bulk of the continent had been infested beyond salvage, and this region was no exception. The tricky business with Aperture was that reckless force wasn't an option. Any measures taken to ensure the area was free from contamination could certainly damage invaluable research.

The search of the Borealis had, so far, proven fruitless. It was still in its early stages, but Overwatch was eager to exhaust every avenue of discovery they could. One vital piece of information had come from the endeavor- the location of Aperture's main lab, smack in the center of the Xen-infested wasteland that replaced what was once one of Earth's most prominent nations.

After what seemed like an eternity in the air, the transport dropped several teams of soldiers off in the center of a worn and overgrown parking lot. Truth be told, it wasn't entirely as bad as some of them had imagined. There were still plenty of earthly trees and grasses. Birds could be heard singing from the forest which surrounded the facility. One of the troops even spotted a deer beyond the chain-link fence, which quickly fled at the sight of them.

But the cavalry of Suppressors and Heavies which took point reminded them not to underestimate this place. Xen wildlife preferred it dark, after all, so it made sense that the worst of it would be inside.

The front door of Aperture Labs was broken off its hinges by a battering ram, and in rushed the infantry. Their mission was to assess, suppress, secure and, most importantly, to search for evidence of intra-dimensional jump research. Only transhuman soldiers made up this wave. The nature of their mission was too vital to trust to mere humans.

The lab was in a state of decay. Tree roots burst through the floor and mold adorned the discolored walls at every turn. Barnacles infested the ceiling, picking off headcrabs and native fauna that had the misfortune of wandering inside. The floor was littered with bones, sludge, and every manner of pungent biological refuse.

The squad couldn't help but notice the cameras. Despite the disarray, one thing was still clearly working here. Every so often they would come upon a small, wall-mounted camera. Their lenses glowed with a dreary red, and they moved in response to the movement of anything that got close. It was strange that they still had power. Where were they getting it from?

The labs they found were hardly impressive. Jars of basic chemicals lined the shelves around cracked fume hoods. Bunsen burners, bleach. These were the instruments of a novice, a far cry from the highly advanced physics they were told this facility worked with.

One Grunt stopped as he crossed into an office. It had a wide, open space in front of a desk that looked out of place. His footsteps sounded a bit different here. He kicked at the floor and heard a reverberating sound.

"Captain, I think there's a hole here."

His Captain turned around, inspecting the ground. The Grunt backed up to give his superior space as he tested the battered linoleum with his boots.

"Stand back," he ordered. His squad complied. Once there was a big enough berth, he tossed a grenade and landed it square in the center of the floor.

A resounding BOOM rattled the walls of the facility as a shower of dust and debris filled the air. When it cleared, the Grunt's theory was proven right. There had indeed been a hole. A deep, perfectly cylindrical shaft ran down for what seemed like an endless length. The Captain removed a flare from his pack, lit it, and let it drop. They never heard it land.

"This is Recon Unit 4, we're gonna need some equipment for a-"

Before he could finish, something pushed him, along with his entire squad, into the pit. One of the Grunts could swear he saw the walls moving. The dim light from the top of the shaft faded almost instantly, as though something was moving to cover it up.

"Shit!"

"Aahhhh!"

Every Grunt had some sort of reaction, all but the Captain, who remained silent for the duration of the fall. An unpleasant menagerie of shattering and heavy _whumpfs_ greeted them as their bodies hit the bottom.

One Grunt landed on his stomach. His helmet was the first thing to make contact with the ground. He heard a sound like cracking bone and noticed his vision severely impaired as he came to his senses. A lengthy series of cracks ran along the right side of his HUD.

The Captain shuffled to his feet, quickly finding his rifle. His eyes lit up a radiant blue to illuminate the area.

He wasted no time assessing the situation. His heavy body armor protected him, but his Grunts were not so lucky. One looked bent in half, the sharp outline of his bottom ribs jutting out of the midsection of his jumpsuit. He groaned audibly- a mistake on his part.

"Can you move?" The Captain demanded.

He seemed to try. His arms pushed against the ground as he tried to get up, but it was clear that he couldn't move his legs; the Captain promptly shot him. The rest of the team flinched as the soldier's communicator sent out the telltale beeps.

"Anyone else?"

The Grunt with the smashed eye scrambled for his pistol as the Captain glared at him. He nodded, hoping his injury didn't look so grievous as to earn him the same treatment.

The Grunt beside him moaned quietly as he too picked up his weapon with a noticeably bloodied arm. Even the half-sighted Grunt could see it was broken, but his fellow soldier was doing his damndest to hide that fact.

The last of them was mostly unharmed. He wobbled to a standing position and gave an affirmative nod as he held his gun at the ready.

The Captain nodded. He radioed for help. "This is Recon Unit 4, requesting additional units, possible evac. We are beneath the main facility, about 90 meters down. One casualty."

Static blared in their headsets.

"Repeat, this is Recon Unit 4, we are 90 meters below the facility. Does anyone on surface copy?"

More static. Any signals from above seemed to be scrambled. At the very least, they could still radio each other.

"Spread out, look for a way out."

The area was dark, illuminated only by sparse red lighting. Every which way seemed to be a dead end, halls led to office room upon office room, long abandoned.

"Nothing this way."

"Me too."

One area seemed promising. A tunnel which opened into a wide atrium, split in half by a faded blue force field. It looked a bit like the ones they used on the Citadel, but it didn't quite seem solid.

"Captain, I think I found something," one of the Grunts called. They converged on him and stopped just short of the field.

"What is it?"

"Unknown," the Captain approached it, eyeing it carefully. He turned to the Grunt with the broken arm. "Put your hand through."

He didn't appreciate being a guinea pig, but he didn't have much choice. So, slowly, he put his good hand forward. To his surprise, it passed right through it. He stuck his whole arm through and on up to his shoulder.

"Doesn't feel like anything."

"Go through."

The Grunt obeyed. He passed right through the field, and for a split second it seemed it hadn't done anything-then he started to smoke.

His gear pack turned to ash and vaporized, along with his pistol and part of his helmet. He screamed, both arms rushing to grip the back of his head as his legs gave out and collapsed.

"What happened?!" The Captain demanded. The Grunt fell to the ground, his body seizing as blood pooled beneath his head and chest.

"Shit!" The mostly intact Grunt wanted very much to stay that way. He raised his pistol and backed away from the field. But the wall was sliding toward him-the back entrance they had come through was gone, replaced with a dingy off-white wall that was closing in on them quickly.

"The wall! It's going to push us all through the field."

"Engage!" 

"Sending spikes!"

A barrage of gunfire saturated the encroaching wall- unshockingly, to little effect. What good would shooting a wall do?

" _Please refrain from damaging testing apparatus."_ A voice suddenly droned over the loudspeaker.

"What?"

The squad didn't listen, and continued to fire up until they had no space left. The wall slammed them through the force field and on through to the other side. Miraculously, they did not suffer the same fate as their comrade.

The team passed through just fine-their weapons on the other hand did not. As soon as they touched the field, their rifles evaporated into dust. The same with their grenades, their ammunition, and their comms pieces.

"What the-?!"

" _Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science Computer-Aided Enrichment Center. The Aperture Science Material Emancipation Grill recalibration test is now complete. It has emancipated your weapons, and all unauthorized communication devices. We regret that the first test was improperly calibrated due to a failure to account for abundant internal exotic materials."_

"There's no way a human survived here this long, is there?"

"No. Not a human," the Captain deduced. The voice was robotic and feminine, and it certainly didn't sound human.

" _You are the first Exogenous Assets to be welcomed into the Enrichment Center as Test Subjects. Please proceed to the chamber lock so that we can begin testing."_

In an instant the room lit up, with the walls moving into place around it. A circular door with the figure of a running man swiveled open.

"What is it talking about, what's going on?"

The Captain didn't have an answer, despite everyone seeming to look to him for it.

"Attention anti-citizen. This is your first and final warning. Release us, return our weapons, and surrender."

It felt a bit pathetic, making demands like this with no bite to back up his bark. But the Captain would not let his sense of authority slip so easily. Whoever was doing this would pay.

" _We are sorry. Talking is not necessary to complete this test. However, the Enrichment Center applauds your innovation."_ A slow and monotonous clapping came from the speakers.

"Last warning. You are in violation of civil code. Show yourself and surrender, NOW!" The Captain roared. The voice did not answer this time.

His Grunts looked at him, unsure what to do. This was not a situation they had been trained for.

"Did we just become prisoners?" One blurted. The Captain shot him a venomous glare, the Grunt put his hands up, "Just asking."

They did not seem to have any option but to comply. The team, now reduced to three, begrudgingly walked toward the open door and into the chamber beyond. The door shut and locked behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Testing the Combine

The new room was stark and white from top to bottom. It was oddly barren, its only contents an enormous red button and a grey box on the opposite side.

_ “The first test involves the Weighted Storage Cube, and three Exogenous Assets’ reaction to the Weighted Storage Cube.” _

“Our reaction to a cube? What?” The healthy Grunt complained. He sauntered over to it and looked it over briefly before kicking it. “Gah,” the thing was more solid than he had expected.

“Don’t kick it, we don’t know what it does,” the one-eyed Grunt advised. He looked to his Captain for guidance. The Captain seemed preoccupied, looking from the cube to the button. A blue line traced its way from the button all the way to another circular door.

He motioned to the button. “Press it.”

The one-eyed Grunt carefully trekked toward it, and stopped just short. He hesitated, fearing the thing would be somehow rigged to kill him. He placed one boot on its surface. It depressed, and he braced himself for nothing more than the door swiveling open.

The Captain wasted no time leaving, along with the other soldier. The one-eyed Grunt turned to follow, but as soon as his weight was off, the door slammed shut.

It seemed obvious, what to do. Or rather, what the strange entity in control of the facility wanted him to do. He walked over to the cube his comrade had kicked and placed it on the button. The door slid open once again.

_ “Excellent work. Your reaction to the Weighted Storage Cube is most satisfactory.” _

He joined his comrades in the next room, which was almost identical to the first. A button, a cube, and a third object behind a pane of glass. It was smooth, slim and white, and stood on a tripod of legs. A small tracking laser traced from its front across the room. 

“Don’t like the look of that thing. Looks dangerous,” the intact Grunt commented.

“Yeah, but it’s standing in front of the button we gotta press to leave, so we have to go near it, don’t we?”

The Captain remained quiet, looking around the room. He walked over to the beady-eyed contraption and reached over the pane of glass to put a hand directly in front of it. His digits blocked the beam of light and the contraption activated, revealing two miniguns in its side. He removed his hand immediately and watched as it peppered the opposite wall with bullets.

“Firing on an officer is a capital offense,” he barked. “You will be prosecuted.”

_ “The Enrichment Center wishes to remind you that talking, even threats, are not a part of this test. Please proceed to solve the test in another manner.” _

“Enough! You will reveal yourself and surrender!” The Captain was becoming enraged. He refused to play this thing’s little game.

The one-eyed Grunt opted to be resourceful. He meekly pointed at the cube and asked, “Maybe we have to use that?”

“Yeah, I’ll use it alright,” the intact Grunt bellowed, he picked up the cube and walked up to the pane of glass concealing the turret. He weaved around it and hurled the cube in its direction just as it opened its sides to fire.

The cube knocked it onto its side. “Ow ow ow!” A childish voice cried.

The Grunt took a few bullets to the shoulder for his recklessness, but he survived. He moved the cube onto the button and picked up the turret.

“Think we could use this as a weapon?”

“Careful where you point that thing,” the one-eyed Grunt complained. He didn’t trust it.

The door opened up to another blue force field like the one before. As they passed through it, the turret vaporized.

“So much for that- ah,” as soon as the one-eyed Grunt passed through the grid, he felt a pounding in his head. Had something been damaged?

The others seemed fine, and so he chose to ignore it, despite the welling anxiety that he would soon share their comrades’ bloody fates. The door closed, there was a grated stairwell that emptied into a room with a circular elevator.

The one-eyed Grunt became excited. “Hey, that’s a lift! Think it’ll take us back to the surface?”

“No,” the Captain answered, eyeing his subordinate. The way he was speaking seemed off, somehow. He was hardly naive enough to be so optimistic. Nevertheless, they were trapped, with one way forward. They had no choice but to board it.

As expected, the elevator began moving downwards, taking them deeper into the facility. When it opened again, they were greeted with a trio of doors, each leading to separate rooms.

_ “This next test will require collaboration with minimal communication. Good luck.” _

The Captain took the center room, with his underlings taking the sides. Each door locked behind them. The one-eyed Grunt went up a flight of stairs, his Captain stayed level, and the intact Grunt went down. Their next rooms were stacked on top of one another, with glass floors to separate them. 

The one-eyed Grunt’s room contained a single button, and a strange contraption throwing what looked to be a ball of energy against a wall. It left scorch marks as it ricocheted back and forth high above him. It looked to him uncannily like the charged shot of a pulse rifle; likely dangerous.

Pressing the button caused a blue oval to appear on the wall the energy sphere was hitting. It shimmered with a strange opalescence, but didn’t seem to do anything otherwise. 

The Captain’s room had two buttons, one on either side. One created a similar oval on the wall, this one a radiant orange. The second button created an identical shape opposite the first. Only one could exist at a time. As soon as one was active, both the blue and orange shapes changed; they now showed an image of the other’s room, and the energy ball passed from one to the other. The one-eyed Grunt watched in shock as it was teleported from his room to the Captain’s.

“Hey that- that’s it! This is what we came here for!” he exclaimed with an uncharacteristic enthusiasm. He was almost glad when he realized his comrades could not hear him. Still, even if they couldn’t, he was certain they realized it too. Localized, intra-dimension teleportation- the thing they had been searching for since before the Combine even came to Earth. They were so tantalizingly close, and yet they were trapped, unable to report their findings.

The second Grunt looked upwards as his comrades fiddled with their buttons. He had one too. It created a blue portal ahead of him, though he could not reach it as a dingy, brownish moat divided them. Directly across from the portal was some sort of receiver, it had a slot in it.

It became obvious to the trio that this was some sort of puzzle, albeit a simple one. It took a few tries to get the timing down and to do it fast enough to prevent the ball from dissipating but eventually, they figured it out. Using the button-activated portals, they teleported the energy ball from the top room to the receiver on the bottom.

_ “Excellent work. You are doing very well,” _ the voice praised them as the door to the next chamber opened.

The one-eyed Grunt looked down to see the Captain moving about, pointing at the portals and then to him. He could tell from his movements that he was trying to give an order, but he could only guess at what it was. He wasn’t the most tactical thinker, and he was having trouble imagining anything they  _ could _ do to help their situation.

_ “Please do not destroy vital testing apparatus.” _

The one-eyed Grunt watched as his comrade on the bottom floor finished tearing a mounted button out of the floor, and hurled it into the blue portal. It came out in the Captain’s room and fell downward. It nailed the Captain square in the head and the one-eyed Grunt almost laughed as he watched his comrade freeze in place, struggling to process what he had just done. It certainly hadn't been intentional.

It looked as though words were exchanged, though he could not hear them. He realized he wouldn’t be hearing his comrades for a while, either, as yet another door opened to reveal the next test chamber. The one-eyed Grunt feared he may go insane here.

The alternative was standing still and refusing to comply until they starved to death and so, once more, the team went onwards into the next chambers. Another bizarrely sterile scene of white walls, cubes, and buttons greeted the one-eyed Grunt. A dark pool of sinister looking water surrounded steep drop-offs, and this time, he was alone.

“Let me OUT!” he started banging on the door, he tossed the nearest cube into the sludge beneath, only for it to dissolve and be instantly replaced. How many more of these would he have to endure?

_ “Panic is a very human response, and while inconvenient, the Enrichment Center encourages you to push through it.” _


	3. Chapter 3

_ “The Enrichment Center wishes to inform you that loitering by the chamber lock is not a part of this test. Please cease loitering by the chamber lock.” _

He wished that damn voice would be quiet already. Though it seemed automated, the Grunt could tell it had some underlying scheme. It was obvious that its sole motive was to drive him further into the facility. He had no way of knowing when, if ever, it would run out these strange puzzle rooms.

He had a noticeable bit of brain fog, and struggled to make a decision. He didn’t know if this was a result of the unfamiliar scenario or of the damage done to his head. He was keenly aware how off things felt, especially after that second pass through what the voice had called the “emancipation grill”.

_ “This test is simple, I have complete confidence in you.” _

It did look simple; mind-bogglingly so. Two buttons and two boxes to place on them. Once placed, a platform moved across the moat of brown sludge. The Grunt wondered briefly about its makeup.

The platform dropped him off in the center of the moat atop a stationary square of white with a single button. He pressed it, and a familiar blue hole appeared in the floor beside him. This was the first time he had seen one up close. Looking through, he could see a room much like his; white walls, a brown moat. But though he was looking down, he could see water whose surface was oriented sideways. And in the center of the room he saw another soldier, fitted with the same dingy hazmat suit as him.

“Hey, over here!” He waved, trying to get his attention. The other Grunt waved, but not to him. He was looking into a hole, too. It suddenly started to click for him. He was looking at himself. He looked over his shoulder to see the second portal, this one edged with orange. He saw himself standing sideways through it.

The orange one led onto a platform that was near the exit. Carefully the grunt put his hand through it, looking back at his doppelgänger to see him do the same. He hadn’t passed through one before, and he wondered what to expect. In all likelihood, it wasn’t safe. Nevertheless, he shuffled his way through, stifling a bout of nausea as gravity instantly changed. When he oriented himself, he was beside the door. It opened to another blue grid blocking a set of stairs to an elevator.

He stopped short, remembering what happened the first time he had passed through one. He tried looking all about for a way to avoid passing through it.

_ “Please pass through the Material Emancipation Grill so that we can continue testing.” _

He stood a bit shakily and pointed to the portal he had just emerged from. “Give me the device that makes these, and let me go,” he demanded. 

_ “Unfortunately only one of us is in a position to make demands. Please pass through the Emancipation Grill.” _

“They will send more after me. They probably already did when we lost contact.”

_ “We look forward to welcoming more Exogenous Assets. Now, please pass through the Emancipation Grill so that we can continue testing.” _

What were his options? Stand here forever? See what that suspicious-looking water felt like? He knew this thing could force him through if it wanted. After a bit of internal debate, the Grunt finally gave up. He braced himself and walked through the grill.

There was no sudden pain this time, and for a moment the Grunt figured his abundant caution was an overreaction. But as he settled into the elevator he did feel something. There was a bit of wetness inside his mask that wasn’t there before. A slow drip, drip, drip from the main vent of his helmet went unnoticed as the elevator descended, right up until he stepped in the puddle on his way out. He looked back as he noticed a series of boot prints fringed with crimson.

_ “I wouldn’t worry about that. An Aperture Science Sanitation Consultant will be along later to take care of the mess.” _

He put a glove to his vent and brought it away bloody. He became uncomfortably aware of the liquid which was filling the gaps between the teeth and ventilator in his jaw. It tasted like metal.

‘What did you do,’ he tried to say, but it came out garbled. His voice mod was working fine, it was something else. Only a few syllables slipped out, slurred and inarticulate. 

  
_ “Unfortunate that we will be unable to talk anymore,” _ the voice taunted.


	4. Chapter 4

“Sending spikes, contact down.”

“Sending spikes, contact down.”

“Sending spikes, contact down.”

He could still say those two phrases, and for some reason, they were all he wanted to say. There was no weapon, and he was alone, and yet those two phrases were all that occupied his head. He had said them before a number of times in the proper context, no doubt, but one instance in particular stood out in his memory. 

There was a young man, and a man maybe twice his age. The Grunt recalled they looked similar, even if their faces were a blur. The older one was helping the young one off the ground as they were being questioned. He couldn’t recall the questions, only that their answers were unsatisfactory. The older man was slated for transfer to Nova Prospekt. The young one was upset by the decision, and when he attempted to put up a fight-

“Sending spikes. Contact down.”

The Grunt didn’t really feel anything about the incident. There was nothing in particular that should have made it any different from the other times he had put down an anti-citizen. But something had broken in his head, and now he was fixated. It was hard to think about anything else.

_ “Please refrain from causing unnecessary damage to the test chamber, _ ” the voice chimed. 

Damage? What damage? He was doing damage? The Grunt snapped out of his trance long enough to realize that with each repetition, he was banging his head into the wall. He had been doing it so long that cracks were beginning to appear in the layers of dusty paint.

He had just enough wherewithal to take in the room. It was just as simple as the last and yet the Grunt had a significantly difficult time making sense of it. Blood was still dripping from his mask, though more slowly now. 

_ “The test is simple,” _ the voice assured him.

The Grunt slurred out a response. Even he didn’t understand it.

_ “Maybe you need a little motivation; complete this test and I’ll give you a gun.” _

That got a reaction. The Grunt brought his head away from the wall. Even with his tenuous grip on things right now he knew the sound of something familiar when he heard it. Any sort of weapon would be a relieving return to normalcy.

He had a sweep of the room. He still struggled to make sense of it, but he garnered his focus. It took him longer than last time, but with the press of a button, the activation of a portal, and a bit of problem-solving he was done. A familiar circular door opened.

To his dismay, another blue force field awaited him. He froze up. 

_ “Unfortunately, passing through the incandescent field in front of you is the only way to progress to the next test.” _

He knew it was a lie. He wasn’t carrying anything, and the voice had full control over everything in the facility. It could turn it off if it wanted to.

Still, he once again had no choice. He went through as quickly as he could and bolted into the elevator, covering his head as though it might protect him- it didn’t.

A sudden wave of despair overtook him. Like a creeping dread that something horrible would happen, or already had. Some sort of inhibiting component had been destroyed, and he was suddenly aware of every little piece of him that had been modified.

There was a persistent, throbbing pain in his torso. He couldn’t pinpoint where exactly- it was everywhere. Absolutely everywhere hurt. His chest, his gut, his throat, his head, even his eyes. It was like he was suddenly aware of every surgical modification he had undergone. He wasn’t supposed to feel this, even bullets weren’t supposed to produce a reaction. 

“Gaaahh,” well, at least he could still say that. He was reduced to his knees, and hardly noticed as the elevator door opened.

_ “Feel free to take your time, the test isn’t going anywhere.” _

“Sending spikes, contact down,” the loop played over again, as though to offer a distraction.

There was more after those words, though not his.

“No… no no no. Why? Why did you do that? He was a good kid he never hurt anyone…” the faceless man’s words were broken, and the soldier could see his eyes were leaking. 

“Get moving,” the Grunt hit him with the butt of his gun and out the door where a transport was waiting.

“P-please I was just looking for information on my wife. I didn’t mean to cause trouble, I just want to know where she is, please, she’s Civil Protection, she’s one of you, that’s gotta count for something, doesn’t it?”

“Be quiet,” the Grunt thrust his pistol into the man’s back and pushed him forward, edging him toward the back of a transport.

“Please, you already took my son from me, I just want to know what happened to her-you can’t tell me? I didn’t do anything,” he pleaded. But he had- the Grunt remembered. He had been working with Resistance members, utilizing their equipment and resources to spy. 

“Get in the transport,” the Grunt warned. His team was with him- an Ordinal, another Echo One, and a Wallhammer. Who did this anti-citizen think he was kidding, to offer anything but complete silence and compliance?

The man stood in front of the vehicle, but he didn’t budge. The soldier’s patience grew thin.

“I said -“

The man whirled around, he grabbed the Grunt’s pistol and fought for it. “Just fucking kill me, come on!” His voice cracked. “Do it!”

“Get off!” The Grunt easily overpowered him. He whipped him across the face with his gun and watched him fall like a bag of bricks. The man’s face was gored, his nose noticeably off-center and caked in red. A good amount of damage, but nothing conversion couldn’t work around. He groaned as the grunt thrust him by the shoulder into the back of the van. He shut the doors, and off he went.

He hadn’t really thought much about it at the time. What was there to think about? There were plenty other memories like it after. And yet, none before. He realized it was the very beginning of his life.

It seemed odd that such a thing was his first assignment. No routine patrols, no target practice, no basic field test to precede active duty. He woke up in Nova Prospekt, and the next day he was detaining that man in the city.

And before waking up? Well, nothing, naturally. No sights, no sound, no memories. But he did remember a sensation. It was just like what he was experiencing now. An all-encompassing physical agony. It was so vivid now, the memory of this pain. But through it he remembered another sensation which seemed to contradict it; relief. Like an unfathomable burden being lifted from his shoulders. It was an intoxicating calm that came from absolving his mind of all humanity. A clean slate, a perfect machine incapable of handicaps like pain and regret. And here he was, that perfect creation being slowly, insidiously ruined. The clarity was gone, replaced with a sort of dread with no particular target.

But maybe it was directed at something after all. His head certainly seemed to be trying to direct it, at any rate.

“Sending spikes, contact down.”


	5. Chapter 5

The haze over City 17 was thick, but never enough that the Citadel was out of sight. A Goliath of a building that dwarfed the entire city, it served to remind citizens just how small and inconsequential they were. 

The fog itself helped keep people placid and in poor health, after long enough. It was no secret that one of the primary perks of joining Civil Protection was receiving a mask that served to filter the toxic air. That and better rations, better living conditions, just a better life all around.

It came at a price that many considered too high to pay. To join the forces of those oppressing humanity was not a choice made lightly, but for many it was seen as the only option. Be beaten, or be the one giving the beating.

The sounds of the city rang loud and repetitive. A far-off announcement from Overwatch, occasional radio chatter, the boom of a Strider’s footsteps as it transported goods and terrified the populus. Gone were the sounds of cars and crowds. Only the voice of those in control could be heard. Here, you were alone in your head, and when you spoke with others, you had to be careful what you said. You learned to police your own thoughts, for you never knew who might be listening.

But one knew exactly who was listening; for they had made the choice to join them. A radio rang quietly in their head with various updates. They always struggled to hear it over the whir of air against a vent not directly connected to anything. When they replied, there was still a mouth, a working jaw not inundated with machinery and wires. They would never really get used to how deep the mask made their voice sound.

The spark of a stunstick was heard, a warning given. Compliance, no action. Good, there was an ever-present reluctance to use it, anyhow. The stunstick was shut off, and was passed over nervously in his gloved hands. 

_His_ hands? That didn’t sound right.

None of this did. It didn’t feel real, somehow. 

_“An Intubation Associate has been dispatched to revive you.”_

An announcement from Overwatch? No, it wasn’t directed to anyone else. Overwatch hadn’t said that though, they had said something much worse. A crime had been committed, and there were questions that needed answering. There was no hiding from beings who could take forceful control of your brain, especially if you were already in their ranks. That reluctance to use a stunstick became incriminating, in the end.

Everything felt numb. The aching pain had been replaced with a dull sense of touch, if even that. He was only vaguely aware that he was lying on the ground because his eyes were open.

_“Oh good, you_ are _alive. You can continue testing.”_

The Grunt didn’t feel much like moving. He tried to get up, but felt an instant headrush as soon as he craned his back forward. He fell back to the floor. He noticed a little breeze on his arm that wasn’t there before. He looked to see someone had cut away a strip of his hazmat.

Skin the color of ash, with a number of implants that ran down into the muscle beneath. There was a circular patch with a smiley face that was definitely new. Its center was discolored by a tiny spot of blood. So, that was why he felt so numb.

_“Come on now, don’t you want that gun?”_

He knew it was likely another trick. He knew this thing would never give him anything that might actually help him. But he was curious all the same. After a bit of stalling and a great bit of effort, he stood up. It took him a bit to get used to standing again. He was so woozy and so, so numb from whatever he had been injected with. It was almost amazing that he could stand up at all.

There was already an orange portal right next to him, tucked in a corner. The view through it changed with a slow rhythm. Each view stared directly into the end of a strange device. It was white and black to match its sterile surroundings, and its tip had three inward-facing prongs. It turned away as he looked at it and fired in another direction. The view changed with it, always looking down the barrel. Was this the “gun” the voice had mentioned?

He waited until the portal led onto a platform directly attached to the object, and went through. He carefully took the thing from its place upon the pedestal. It certainly didn’t feel like any weapon he had held before.

_“Excellent. You are now in possession of the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device. With it, you can create your own portals. As you have noticed, these intradimensional gates have been proven to be completely safe. The device however, has not. Do not touch the operational end of the device, do not look directly into the operational end of the device.”_

The Grunt pulled the trigger of the weapon and watched as a swirl of light erupted from its end. It planted the shot into the opposite wall, and a portal appeared. It took him a moment to process. It felt good to be in control of something again.

_“Do not submerge the device in liquid, even partially. Most importantly, under no circumstances should you attempt to leave the confines of the Enrichment Center with the device.”_

Naturally, the first thing he did was look for any possible way out. A crack in a wall, perhaps, or a hole in the ceiling. Anything large enough to shoot a portal through. Maybe, just maybe this thing could be his ticket out.

Seeing nothing worthwhile, he instead aimed a portal at the only wall he could reach, and placed a blue one. It didn’t seem capable of making the other color yet.

He went through, back to where had started. But, what now? The Grunt struggled to remember the goal. Get to the next door, right? Well, there was a wall he could easily shoot right next to the exit door. So that was simple, right?

But why rush? He finally had the very device that they had been searching for in the palm of his hands. They thought they might be lucky just to find worthwhile data. To actually have it, and in such a portable form, was almost unreal. Surely if he could just get this back and report to Overwatch, he would be promoted. He would be a hero, even. But then… then what? That’s all he wanted, wasn’t it? To give his efforts to the cause, to move up in rank, to spread the glory of the Empire.

It all felt so empty and pointless now. He didn’t quite know why, perhaps the damage in his head played a part. The dread had mostly gone, replaced with a hopeless apathy. He sorely missed being so certain of what he wanted. 

It was rather funny. Here he was, holding the key to universal dominance, and the price he had paid was being completely, utterly trapped with it. The Grunt had to chuckle a bit. It was nice to discover another instance where his voice still worked. 

Instead of shooting the wall near the exit, the Grunt observed the corner where the orange portal lied. He got a bit curious about the physics of this thing. He could control the blue ones now, and so the first thing he did was to shoot the corner adjacent to orange. It created a disorienting recursion. The Grunt reached through and touched his own back. The effect was odd, to say the least.

Turning sideways a bit turned the portals into an infinite mirror. He could see two other versions of himself at a time, each holding the same device, each with the same hunched pose, the same injuries. It was a bit strange, looking at himself. He had seen other Grunts, certainly, and he had no reason to believe he looked any different than they did. He knew he had always been a smidge shorter than the average soldier. His helmet seemed big on him, like it wasn’t fitted quite right. 

The crack on his eye was visible and deep. The lens was chipped and darkened around the edges. The light was broken, revealing the faded cyan which contrasted to the bright, lively yellow of his left one. It looked as though it might shatter at the slightest abrasion. He raised a hand to his head, and watched his twins follow.

_“The Enrichment Center wishes to inform you that prolonged exposure to your recursive selves is not a recommended part of this test. If you feel you require mental stimulation, please listen to the following music.”_

A rhythmic noise came from the speakers in the room. The Grunt was certain he had never heard it before, yet it sounded familiar. It was calming and nostalgic. It stopped just as abruptly as it had started, and it didn’t leave much else but confusion in its wake.

He snapped back to reality and stared into the wall mounted camera a few feet above him. The aperture in the center narrowed as it focused on him.

The Grunt didn’t know much, but he did know he hated that thing- or rather, whoever was behind it, in control. The wall the camera rested on looked no different from the others, so why wouldn’t a portal work there? He shot a blue one directly behind it and watched the camera snap off the wall.

_“Please do not destroy vital testing apparatus.”_

The Grunt answered the request with a heavy stomp along the wide end of the camera. Its casing broke beneath it, and shattered into an assortment of chips and wires.

_“Well, that’s just unnecessary.”_

The Grunt looked around for any others he could destroy, but unfortunately it seemed that was the only one. The only thing left to do was complete the room.

He knew what lay on the other side of the door. It didn’t shock him to see it like it did the previous times. He had all but lost his sense of self-preservation, or any hope of getting out of here. How much worse could he even get?

He passed through the grill and into the elevator beyond. There was no pain this time, but a clarity. Suddenly things that had been a blur- actions, places, faces, became clear. The man he had shot, the one he had shoved into a transport, he could see their faces now. They were burned into his memory with a profound clarity that seemed to drown out everything else. He remembered them as they were that day, as they were when they were younger, and as they were when he had bloodied them with his own hands and bullets. But it wasn’t just theirs, there was a third one. It was smaller, softer, wrinkled with stress and age. It stared back at him, mirroring his movements in the same way as his portal twins. He knew that face, like that of the two others, did not exist anymore. The last time he saw it was with a real eye, turned backwards as it was plucked from its socket.

And yet, even if it was gone, the person wasn't. He wasn’t certain how to process it, and for some reason his body’s only reaction was to laugh. So, he laughed. It was all he could do. A crazed cackle rife with confliction that reverberated in his throat. It was the noise that helped. His laughter filled the elevator and continued on into the next test chamber. It served as a distraction, one he knew he could not keep up forever.


	6. Chapter 6

_ “You know, a few things got in when you blew that hole upstairs. The Enrichment Center would consider it a waste not to use them.” _

The Grunt’s voice trailed off into a snicker. He was exhausted from the constant noise he was making, but moreover, he had a new distraction now. This room was different. It was tall, narrow, with nothing but a straight shot forward. A single orange portal was planted high on the ceiling with seemingly no target. At the end of the room, near the door, he could see a familiar shape. That unmistakable little four-legged lump that crawled low to the ground.

It saw him- or whatever its eyeless approximation of that was. He needed to think quickly. He had the portal gun, he needed to use it. But how?!

His eureka came too late. As the creature launched itself at him he instinctively fired his weapon, only for it to fizzle out as it touched the target. It didn’t even slow it down.

It latched on, two spear-like legs stabbing into his shoulders as its toothy, slitted mouth wrapped around his helmet and started to squeeze.

He knew his helmet would not protect him. He could feel it caving in around his skull, the spark of buckling implants and bone filled his ears as he tried desperately to think of a solution.

Through the headcrab’s squirming mouthparts and a progressively shattering HUD the Grunt could just barely make out a slim white object being lowered from the ceiling, and in a split second he processed what it was. He hurled himself in front of it, headfirst. 

“There you are,” a childish voice rang through his ears as he felt a rain of bullets tear apart his aggressive headpiece. It squealed fiercely as its grip slowly slackened. As soon as he felt it stop squeezing he took hold of its feet and hurled it at the turret. It toppled over with the impact and let loose its final rounds into the air before deactivating.

_ “Oh, that doesn’t look good.” _

The Grunt could hear his own voice rasping muffled through a damaged voice modulator. He was panting hard. The front vent of his mask had been dented inward and airflow was blocked. He couldn’t breathe. He reached for his face and tore the vent out easily. It took a few teeth with it. He wheezed as fresh air was shuttled into his lungs far faster than he was used to.

He slumped against the wall and touched his face, desperate to know the damage. His right eye was gone completely, its border bored into his head. He could feel the wires from his optic nerves left stripped and bare with nothing to connect to. And there was blood, so much blood. It pooled in his eye socket and in his mask and dribbled into his throat.

He was alive, but why? He was trapped, damaged with no hope of repair. No way to call for backup, no weapon, no orders to follow.

Nobody even cared he was down here. Oh, Overwatch might care to the extent of the valuable technology he had. But once they saw the state he was in he doubted they’d waste the resources to fix him.

But even that was just fantasy. Nobody, not even Overwatch, was coming.

In a different life, someone might have. In a life where that man and his son were not so ruthlessly murdered. The Grunt was so certain, were they alive, they might come looking. They had once before.

In a haze of blood and delirium, the Grunt finally remembered. Why their faces refused to leave his mind. Well, her  mind. They were her family. Killing them had been her field test.

If she still had eyes, she might have cried. But she didn’t. She merely sat there against the wall, next to the corpse of a headcrab for what seemed like hours.

She must have looked quite dead. Her face was ghoulish, jagged teeth and eye socket peering out of a mostly-destroyed mask. Maybe if she sat there long enough the voice would assume she was dead, and finally leave her alone.

But she had a tell. Her breathing was loud, raspy, pocked with sharp, staggered intakes. She hated the sound that resulted when she allowed herself to throw her voice into it, deep and mechanical as it was. But it needed to come out. It had been bottled up for years, and thanks to the callous destruction of the bionics inside her head, she could finally do what she needed to do so desperately; mourn.

As much damage as had been done, nothing vital seemed too far gone. Maybe that was intentional.

_ “There is more testing to do. You have already completed this test. Please proceed to the chamber lock.” _

The soldier was tired. So, so tired. The chamber lock was open, another grill and an elevator were waiting, but she had no intention of carrying on. One way or another, she would not be testing any longer.

Instead, she grabbed the portal gun and fired it directly under her. The one on the ceiling was still there. Its purpose was obvious now. Had she thought quickly enough, she would have thrown the blue one under the headcrab, forcing it to fall from the ceiling. It should have been enough to kill it. But she was bigger, more sturdy. At the very least it had to break  _ something. _

_ “What are you doing?”  _ The voice proclaimed its shock. There was nothing it could do but watch as its precious test subject fell 30 meters from the ceiling.

Orienting herself just right, she aimed to land squarely on a single foot. She screamed as it made contact with the floor. One leg took all of her weight, and with it she heard a satisfying snap. She felt that one.

“Ahhg,” she could see her own leg bones protruding through her suit. Not enough to tear it, though. Good. She wasn’t sure she could stomach the sight of it.

_ “Why did you do that?”  _ The voice asked, knowing full well it would not get an answer.

She slumped down on the floor and grinned. Well, it felt like a grin to her. She had no idea what it actually looked like. But she knew she had won. She couldn’t walk. 

_ “Your condition is unfortunate, but very informative. It has been noted to consider providing future test subjects with protective footwear.” _

She wasn’t sure what came next. The test chamber began to dissolve, panels shifting and shuttling her toward some sort of pipe. The lights went off, and she felt a sudden rush of water.

_ “Disposal in this state is very unusual. But then, you are a very unusual Test Subject. We hope you found your time in the Enrichment Center suitably enriching. Goodbye.” _


	7. Chapter 7

It was a good thing they had an ample supply of gasmasks. Even through it, the scent of rot was unpleasantly strong. She didn’t want to think how much worse it might be without it. Bodies were dumped here often, and often they had very worthwhile items like clothing or broken gadgets. They came through a pipe that was always tightly sealed by the time they arrived. They took what they could, and buried the rest. They weren’t really sure where they came from, but it was probably best not to go looking. There were enough dangerous things without going searching for another.

The motion sensor had triggered the alarm, and, against the probable advisement of her parents, she had come here alone. She wanted to get the first look at this week’s salvage.

Instinctively, she looked for an orange jumpsuit. That was the usual attire. Sometimes tattered, sometimes burned, sometimes full of holes and blood, but it was always orange.

This time, though, she saw an unfamiliar palette. One body was adorned with navy, black and blue. It looked like body armor, though much of the outerwear seemed to have been eaten away by something corrosive. Huge swaths of fabric were burned away, revealing sickly grey skin underneath. But what fascinated her most was the head. Jet black with dead-looking goggles for eyes, three vents not unlike her own.

“Combine!” she whispered, venom in her voice. Her parents had told her about them, but she had never seen one. The fact that she was at all was likely bad.

But, this one was dead, wasn’t it? She grabbed the nearest stick and timidly tapped on its helmet. It lolled from side to side. She got more confident and started hitting its armor, giggling with delight as she landed each blow, hitting harder and harder. She planted a foot on its chest and held her stick aloft like a sword. It felt quite heroic.

There were two other bodies. One had the same mask as the dark one, but it was a pale beige instead of black. Instead of armor, it had a matching jumpsuit absolutely riddled with holes. 

She tapped at that one too, even going so far as to jam the stick into its wounds. It came out dry. The blood was old, sticky. They had been sitting here a while.

The last one had the same pale jumpsuit. This one didn’t have as many holes. Only one leg was particularly bloody, but the thing that stood out the most was its head. This one’s helmet was partially missing, giving the curious human a satisfying glimpse at what lay beneath.

She had been told the Combine were aliens. She was surprised she didn’t see any tentacles, no horns or bright colors or long, nightmarish tongue. This one just looked like a greyish, eyeless human. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed.

She started poking at its face, particularly its eye. The broken one was full of wires which moved about as she tapped them with the end of her stick. She wondered how deep that socket went in its skull- if it had a skull. She got a bit closer and started to push the stick in further, carefully. It was just thin enough to fit.

The girl screamed as the corpse’s arm shot out and grabbed the stick from its eye. She immediately let go and stumbled backward, toppling onto one of the other bodies. She screamed again. What if they were all alive?! She bolted as fast as she could, fully expecting something to grab her.

But nothing followed. She panted hard as she looked behind herself, seeing nothing but the quiet woods. 

That thing was still back there, still moving. But all it did was throw her stick away and slump back down into the mud. It didn’t seem capable of much else.

She should tell someone. She really should, she knew. But it was rather exciting, finding this, she had to investigate further.

She found herself a bigger, heftier stick this time, more like a club, and snuck back. She was wary now of the other bodies, but all but the one with the broken helmet seemed quite inert.

It wasn’t moving anymore. She doubted that it could. She prodded it again, tapping on its bloody leg. The response she got was a deep, robotic groan. It hurt, clearly.

“Are you gonna hurt me?”

The soldier turned its head toward the sound. Was she dreaming? She had to be. At the very least that voice had to be the result of blood-deprived delirium. It sounded impossibly young. What would a child be doing here? And more importantly, how could one even exist?

She didn’t have any intention of doing anything. Why would she?  _ How  _ could she? As she attempted to answer she found her voice surprisingly responsive, perhaps because she only had one word to say.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you all for reading. I’ve really enjoyed seeing what people think through your comments both here and elsewhere. If you have thoughts or feedback I always love to hear them even if I don’t always respond.
> 
> At this time I have no plans to continue this story here, but I will likely do art, one-shots, and other media which you can follow me on tumblr for(there’s a couple things up there already! cryophase.tumblr.com )
> 
> Thanks for sticking with the story this far, cheers!


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